Darkness
by Phoenix Spirit Fighter
Summary: One-shot, post-Eclipse. Even in the brighter days following the witch's defeat, a light falters. Just as a candle must be properly tended if it is to burn brighter, so must trust be restored if the bond of light is to grow stronger.


**Disclaimer: If you recognize it from somewhere else, it's not mine. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.**

**Summary: One-shot, post-Eclipse. Even in the bright aftermath of the Dark Witch's reign, a light is fading. Just as a candle, once extinguished, must be tended before it can be relit, so must the heart that holds the light be tended before it can burn brighter.**

* * *

She woke up.

She had almost expected it, had almost planned to. The dark wasn't something she could tolerate anymore. She brushed a stray hair from her eyes, and realized her cheeks were damp with tears. A glance at her pillow revealed small, dark, wet patches where her fears come to life had fallen, the edge of her sheets bunched together where her white-knuckled fist had grasped them through her nightmare.

She never did tell anyone about what happened in the crypt, thinking that, perhaps, if she tried to avoid the memory it would keep her from reliving it. But every night she relived it; the closed-in, suffocating darkness, the fear, the dying hope of anyone ever finding her. Every night, she woke up just like this.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning on them as her gaze fell to the twin moons floating in the darkness outside her window. In the silvery light she could see piles of her sketch books, pencils and watercolors scattered around the room, random articles of Other-Side clothing draped over chairs and couches. Even now, in the light of her new life, the specters of her past haunted her. She thought she would want them here, had begged her parents for permission to return to her former home and bring pieces of her old life back, and they agreed. So she and Cain had dropped out of a cyclone on the Other Side, shuffled through her former attic bedroom for whatever belongings she wanted to bring back, and then dropped back out into the OZ, never to come back. She thought she was happy, then, having found a home that she remembered more every day, a home where her heart truly belonged. Just like Popsicle always used to say.

She shivered, and climbed out of bed to pull on a sweater, smiling slightly at the familiar feel of the yarn her mom . . ._Robot mom_ she reminded herself . . .always used when she knitted. She went to her window, looking out over the deep blue water of the lake to the gazebo where she had sat with her mother, her real mother, as a young girl.

None of them had wanted to stay in the dark witch's castle, so they had come here, to Finaqua. In her childhood it was a refuge, a place of solitude away from the noise and activity of Central City. But the darkness had followed her here, and even the light and magic that flowed through her veins could not chase it away.

* * *

She was awake again.

Even eight years locked in a metal box was not enough to break him of his Tin Man habits, and when he had not been able to sleep he took to roaming the halls on what he could only call a sad excuse for night patrol. He had never been wanting for solitude; being imprisoned for so long before being thrown into an adventure with a ragtag bunch of characters he now considered his friends showed him the value of being among others.

More often, however, he found himself walking the grounds on his own, trying to reclaim the sense of peace he knew before darkness had fallen. Even this tranquil place they had come to did little to settle the raging demons he faced: the losses of his wife, his son's childhood and his home all still haunted him. More than that, however, was the darkness that still plagued DG.

She never spoke to any of them of what haunted her. He had thought their brief trip to the Other Side to transport parts of her former life back to the OZ would bring her happiness, and for a brief time it seemed so. But as he walked the halls at night, he could hear her crying in her sleep, her gasping whimpers fading to silence after a time as she awoke, then the gentle creaking of floorboards as she paced her room like an animal paces its cage. Twenty minutes of sleep, two hours, it never mattered; once her nightmares woke her up, she was never able to fall back to sleep. He saw, as they all did, the fear she hid from them behind her quickly-diverted gaze; but she never said anything to them about it.

He stood by her door, listening to the suddenly hurried footsteps echoing in the room on the other side. The irony of that thought was not lost on the former Tin Man, as the young princess's scattered belongings made her room seem like something straight out of the histories. The door opened, his reflexes sending him into a shadowed corner, and she darted out, dressed in her strange Other-Side clothes, a jumble of art supplies clutched in her arms. Even in the brief minute it took her to turn and close the door quietly behind her, he could see her eyes were red and puffy, the sky-colored irises darkened in exhaustion and fear. His breath stilled until she turned away, fearful of scaring her should she suddenly find herself eye-to-eye with a shadow that could look back at her.

Her gaze, though, was elsewhere, and looked around without being aware of what it saw. Her breathing was shallow, panicked, and she tore down the hallway, away from him, as though she would break through a wall to find herself elsewhere.

* * *

He could hear them again, just as he could every night. His room was on the third floor, immediately below hers. He had heard her crying in her sleep, gasping for breath as though she were suffocating, then suddenly waking up.

The first night it had frightened him; even with half of his brain missing he was capable of worrying about a friend. He had dashed up the stairs, colliding with Cain in the dark stairwell, stilled by a stern look from the Tin Man. DG had been pulling away from them, shrugging off their concerns with a cheerful front during the day; they could only assume she would do the same now. His energetic bravado wearing off, he had returned to his room at Cain's promise to stay nearby. When he heard her crying the second night, and the cop's quiet footfall in the hallway by her room, he stayed where he was.

Like them, he was never able to sleep. Fifteen annuals of roaming a country as half of who you're supposed to be, missing memories, without any way to prove who you are or disprove who you're not, was bound to create demons.

Still, he was at least home. The queen and king had both agreed that he should be returned to his former position as royal advisor. Ambrose is what they called him, an echo from what seemed less half an age ago and more an entirely separate life. But Ambrose was still in a glass tank, sitting in a back room on the first floor, waiting for the day when . . . if . . . he would be reunited with himself. He was Glitch, whose synapses still misfired, who still glitched words and phrases that affected his emotions, who wasn't above being friends with commoners or below being friends with a princess. When . . . if . . . they ever figured out a way to put his brain back together, would he want to go back to being Ambrose?

Now, when a different kind of darkness was hidden behind the young princess's eyes, he questioned this more than ever. Would Ambrose care for DG, Cain, and Raw the same as Glitch did? Would he worry at the sound of a friend's tears and stifling nightmares? DG had not been able to sleep through the night for almost half a moon-turn, and they had all noticed. During the day she was cheerful, if quiet, but it didn't take a full case of marbles to know something was scaring her.

The echoing whimpers from the floor above had faded, replaced by muted footsteps walking, then pausing by the window. He almost smiled, then, recalling a time when they would talk to each other from their windows on nights that the young princess could not sleep. He looked up from his book, out his own window at the same lake, the same gazebo, the same twin moons, then glanced up, hoping that DG would soon find solace from her nightmares.

The footsteps moved again, faster this time. She was in a frenzy, dashing around her room before a door opened and closed and the sound of creaking floorboards faded down the hallway. A few moments later, Cain's footsteps, faster now and not as quiet, followed.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. Even here, away from the castle, the troubled thoughts running through the minds of his friends and the royal family screamed at him, making both his mind and his heart ache.

It was a rare form of second-sight that had come to him in the darkness of his cell, when he had reached out for his two friends at the same time they connected to each other, Lylo's dying vision forging a new path for his own gifts to take. Now, he was no longer just a viewer, but a seeker, and could see, feel, over distances.

Hands to heal. Mind to seek. Heart to see.

It was a curved blade, this ability. As much as it could be used to help others, the new weight of empathy and seeking rested heavily on him.

Many nights he found himself here, just as now, sitting at the far edge of the lake, trying to escape the emotions of his friends, to control this accursed gift which showed him the darkness that others could not see and refused to show.

Tonight, as many recent nights, his friends' troubled thoughts all intermingled in his mind, their feelings combining in his heart. Cain, the stoic Tin Man who hid his emotions behind steel-blue eyes, was walking the grounds again; searching, as always, for his old life as though it could be found a stone's throw away across the lake. Glitch, the royal advisor who had made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of loyalty, was awake and reading, his thoughts on his old self. _Ambrose_, the viewer reminded himself silently. _His right name Ambrose,_ though even at that moment he knew Ambrose was not someone who Glitch wanted to be.

There was another, a heart he was still tentative to read, though he knew this darkness which had fallen over his friends had fallen over this heart, as well. From where he sat, her room was the second glimmer of lamplight he could see tonight; it was not always there, as Glitch . . . Ambrose's . . . . was. Yes, Princess Azkadellia, soon to be queen of the OZ, had her own demons to face these nights.

A sharp fear broke through his heart-sight, and the individual musings of the three all turned to the young woman caught in the terror of her nightmares. He felt worry, fear, sadness, and even guilt coming to him, his own emotions merging with those from the four humans. The princess's older sister and two friends all wanted to do something, they all wanted to help, but they didn't know how.

She had not told anyone about what happened, but he did not need to be told. Where the others had only known that she was in danger, had only seen the relief upon her face, with that first embrace following he had felt the terror that remained in her heart, the fear she still felt of being lost and never found, of being forgotten, and, irrationally, of her sister. He found it a minor blessing that he did not see her dreams; as it was he wondered how she withstood the suffocating closeness every night.

The fear had settled, replaced by panic and a claustrophobic need to leave, to get out, to find some place that did not have four walls. Surprise from the Tin Man and royal advisor, then worry, and a forlorn acceptance from the elder princess. A guardian hidden by shadow, an extinguished lamp, chasing an apparition through a night-filled hallway; all darkness brought about by the darkness in a young princess's eyes.

* * *

Even after fifteen annuals, their bond was as strong as ever. Come hell or high water, wicked witches or whirlwinds, they would always be sisters. The magic flowing through their veins, growing stronger with practice, was always at its strongest when they stood hand in hand. As irritating as Tutor could be, he spoke truth: their light was in their magic, and two candles burning together would always create a stronger, brighter light.

But what can be done when a candle fades?

She did not need to be told what caused the darkness overcoming her sister's dreams. She could see it in the younger princess's pale blue eyes, and in the wise gaze of the viewer. Though her sister hid it well, there was no mistaking the tiny spark of fear when they caught each other's eye or stood side by side during lessons. With their magic growing, so did their bond as sisters, and when one felt pain, so would the other.

Sometimes she wondered how Raw was able to do it.

It seemed no one was able to sleep. She could hear the unmistakable footfall of the former Tin Man in the hallways, stopping outside her sister's room until the nightmares ended. She had seen the viewer running along the shore of the lake, desperate to find reprieve from the tumultuous emotions ricocheting around the castle. The gentle glow from a window on the floor below told her that Ambrose . . . _Glitch, now_, she corrected herself, with no small amount of guilt . . . had taken to reading his old books, as though trying to find some sense of who he was once, of who he was supposed to be. Guilt hit her again as she thought of DG, knowing that her sister was reliving those hours spent in the crypt, knowing that she, though possessed by the dark witch, had done nothing to protect her little sister. All the light magic in the zone could not change what happened, and just as a candle, once extinguished, needed to be tended before it could be relit, so would she need to tend her little sister's trust before the darkness could go away.

More footsteps in the hallway, too fast and light for Cain, and they disappeared around a corner and down the stairs. Her sister was running. Whether it was away, or out, or even just running, she doubted even her younger sibling knew. Heavier footsteps followed, echoed by more in the corridor one floor down. A glance out the window and she realized the glow had disappeared from Glitch's room.

Her sister had run, and her friends had followed. She was tempted to do the same, but knew that, for now, it just had to be them. Even with DG's memories returning, she still knew her friends better than she knew her family, and it would be they to whom she could most easily turn with her fears.

DG appeared in the field below, dressed as she had been on her journey through the OZ, a sketchpad and colored pencils held securely in her arms, and still she ran. In the distance, Raw stood from where he had been crouching in the tall grass, a curious tilt to his head as he watched her run. Cain, in his duster and fedora, as always, appeared in the silvery field next, followed closely by Glitch, both stopping suddenly as they, too, watched as she blew past the viewer, finally coming to a rest at the edge of the forest. Her friends were no longer running, but walking in the same direction. There would be time enough.

* * *

"DG?"

She didn't reply, but kept her gaze on her drawing; four friends traveling along a broken-down old road. She knew she didn't have to say anything, not with Raw.

The empath said nothing else, but sat next to her at the base of the tree, watching silently as brown-pencil lines created a fedora and weather-worn duster, a ripped and shredded royal uniform, a tiny dog trotting alongside the four companions. Raw tilted his head, curious.

"You're a lighter color," she murmured, an answer to his unasked question. "You have more gold in you, and more tawny. There's more than just brown," she tapped the pencil in her hand, thinking. "Except for this." The color found the paper again, creating the dark brown eyes of the viewer and their head-case friend. She smiled, then, however slightly, and Raw copied the action. Shades of blue came next, creating the other two sets of eyes, a sky with two suns, a well-loved pair of high-top sneakers. Another pause. "You know why I can't sleep, don't you."

It wasn't a question, as far as he could tell, more a verbal recognition of something already known. He nodded anyway.

"Yeah."

"When did you know?"

He thought for a moment, frowning.

"When we find you, after you escape from Grey Gale. Face said relief, heart said fear, mind said why."

"Do you think I'm being stupid about this?"

The viewer's forehead creased as he searched for what she was talking about; he found it, just as they both knew he would.

"If fear real, then not stupid. You were in danger, scared, wanting to be found by friends. Even when found, what happened does not change, causes nightmares. Being scared not stupid, DG, but fear go away if shared with friends, with family."

She cast a glance his way, her thoughts clear in her eyes even without the use of his heart-sight. "Not fault of Azkadellia," he reminded her. "She not have control over witch, over magic," he looked over his shoulder. He could see the shadowed figures of Cain and Glitch still making their way through the moonlit grass, but he was looking for the glimmer of lamplight coming from the elder princess's room. "But you safe now, she safe now. She know you still see witch when you look at her, she feeling guilty that she not able to protect you. Just as not change for you, it not change for her. She want to change it for you, wishes she could." He turned back to his friend, unsurprised but saddened to see tears falling from her eyes. "It be alright, DG," he sighed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I thought it would be easier to ignore it, like it never happened. I thought I was brave enough to forget it on my own."

"Bravery not mean you always have to fight alone, DG, that what friends for. Cain, Glitch, me, we listen if you talk," he tightened his embrace around her for a moment. "It okay to be scared. Courage not absence of fear, it standing up despite fear. You teach me that."

DG smiled briefly, wiping her teary eyes on the back of her sleeve. "Glitch and Cain, they looking for you. Do you want us here? If not, I go, and I tell them to go."

As if on cue, Cain's voice rang through the trees, calling her name.

"What do you think?" she asked quietly, her eyes back on her drawing.

Raw remained silent for a moment, looking for what she was not saying, for what she hadn't said yet but needed to.

"I think it time for you to talk to friends, to all of us. We ready to listen."

Blue eyes blinked uncertainly, waiting. Cain's voice called out again, echoed by Glitch.

"I'm over here, guys," she finally replied, new tears forming in her eyes.

"Where?" Cain asked. "There are lots of trees here, kiddo, which one are you hiding behind?"

A flick of her hand sent a small wavering light toward the canopy. It sat there for a moment, finally dissipating into the night air. As if by their own magic, her two friends appeared from behind the trees.

"DG, we were worried about you. We were worried about you. We were worried about you. We were . . ."

"Easy there, zipper-head," Cain slapped Glitch across the back, effectively halting the glitch. "You okay, Princess?"

DG glanced sideways at Raw, who nodded slightly, smiling reassuringly.

"I think I'll be okay, Cain; but could you guys sit with me?"

Confusion flitted across their faces, but somehow, they knew why she had asked. "I really need to talk to you."

* * *

The rising of the first sun found Azkadellia still sitting by her window, her gaze still on the edge of the forest where her sister had disappeared hours before. She had seen DG's signal light, drawing her friends to where she was hiding, and the larger, brighter light that had illuminated the four companions after the moons had left the sky. She felt the fear that her younger sister still held, though in the light of the new day it seemed to have faded.

_I'm so sorry, DG. If I could go back and change what happened, I would in a heartbeat._

A movement at the treeline, four figures appearing from behind the giant pines and oaks that lined the lakeshore. One still carried a sketchpad and a box of pencils, a reminder of an old life that carried memories of her new one. An icy stare was shadowed by one's familiar old fedora, though the trenchcoat was now draped over his shoulder, his other arm wrapped securely around the young princess's shoulders. A tiny metallic streak glinted as one laughed, his head quirking as his overexcited synapses misfired again and again. The wise, knowing gaze of the fourth said all that needed to be said, for he was, by nature, a creature of few words; unless, of course, someone needed to hear them.

The elder princess's eyes never left the four as they made their way through the tall grass, side by side as friends, as family. They stepped out of the vast sea of prairie, onto the lawn of the castle, and the viewer's gaze rose, brown eyes meeting brown. He smiled, finally finding his own peace with the settling of his friends' demons, and he turned and motioned to DG, nodding in the direction of the window on the fourth floor. The younger princess paused as she looked up, her pale blue eyes tired, but shining, as she found her sister. The fear was gone, vanished into the night along with the last thoughts of the dark witch. The four stood silently for a brief moment, and she suddenly broke away, tearing across the lawn and into the castle, the elder turning from her window and dashing down the hall.

They found and embraced each other halfway, tears streaming from their eyes. They were tears of apology and guilt, of acceptance and solace, of love, happiness, and a promise to never let go. After all, just as their magic was strongest when they stood side by side, just as the younger princess's friendship with the Tin Man, Viewer, and half-brained Royal Advisor strengthened after the dark night, so was their bond as sisters strongest when they were there to keep the other from fading.


End file.
